


Life Drawing

by Scrunchles



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Jamie, Bottom Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Drunk Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Wrestler Mako
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-09-16 17:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9282005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrunchles/pseuds/Scrunchles
Summary: Life drawing.  They had had all kinds of models throughout the semester and now they had to go out and “stretch their wings,” “find their muse.”  Ultimately, they had to ask one of their unimates to sit in (preferably) their underwear for several hours so that they could draw them.  Everyone else is talking about cheerleaders or classmates they want to draw, but Jamie knows exactly who he wants to use.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to alecciobyas for helping with the artist bits, markingatlightspeed for help with the wrestling bits and froggyflan for the beta.

Life drawing.  They had had all kinds of models throughout the semester and now they had to go out and “stretch their wings,” “find their muse.”  Ultimately, they had to ask one of their unimates to sit in (preferably) their underwear for several hours so that they could draw them.

 

His classmates are already pairing up or talking about using one of the cheerleaders or the football guys for a group session to make it less awkward.  One person even asks Jamie if he would model for her.  He agrees, and she asks if he wants to use her in return, but he already knows who he wants to draw.  A polite refusal for her offer and an exchange of numbers so that they can set up his sitting-- which is going to go shitier than a frat john, but she insists that she wants to be able to get the texture of his scars, and she  _ had _ been the one to help him figure out how the fuck pastels worked in another class, so he kind of owes her.

 

The minute class is out, Jamie heads to the gym, knowing he’ll either find his subject sparring or working out.  He knows his schedule by heart, and he ignores the creep factor of it because  _ dear Lord _ did he have it bad for the guy.  Jamie thinks he knows and just doesn't care.  He hasn't twisted Jamie into a pretzel over it yet, but Jamie kind of wishes he would. 

 

Mako “the Hog” Rutledge is wrestling when Jamie walks into the gym.  He feels a thrill rush through him at the sight.  It’s not that he’s in his very tight wrestling uniform-- though that  _ is  _ usually what gets Jamie’s blood flowing-- it’s that he’s taking on the only other guy on the team that can even come close to Hog’s strength and reach.  It’s a rare sight that Mako’s actually legitimately practicing and not just fucking around or teaching the lower weight classes how to do what he does.  

 

Reinhardt is taller than Mako by a hair, but he has nothing on him in sheer weight.  Over a hundred pounds separates the two and Jamie’s pretty sure that less than half of it is muscle.  

 

Jamie sits, flips open his sketchbook and starts doodling.  Action lines, stick figures, contours, Mako’s face when he gets flipped onto his back, Reinhardt's hand trying to get a grip on the back of Mako’s neck without pulling his long, loose hair.  His hand slips and Mako takes advantage of his lack of grip, hooking his leg between Reinhardt’s and twisting to get the advantage. Reinhardt barks out a laugh and grapples with Mako, trying to break his hold by thrashing and moving around on the mat.  Ultimately, Reinhardt ends up exhausted and pinned to the mat.  He taps out, and Mako extricates himself from the hold with a panting chuckle.

 

Jamie flips to a new page and sketches the lines of Mako’s shoulders, the contour of the muscles, the breadth of them.  When he looks up again, he feels like he’s been snuck up on.  Mako’s standing half a meter from him, a brow raised and that unimpressed look he always got when he noticed Jamie sitting in the otherwise empty stands.  Color flushes Jamie’s cheeks and he flashes Mako a wide grin.  

 

“G’day,” he chirps.

 

“Stop being weird,” Mako tells him.  His voice is a low growl that makes the hair on the back of Jamie’s neck stand up.

 

“Weird?” Jamie asks, feigning innocence.  He keeps his eyes on Mako’s, giving him a more intense eye contact than most people are comfortable with.  Mako just stares back with furrowed brows and an unflinching frown.

 

“Yeah, weird.”

 

“Good weird or bad weird?” Jamie asks, maintaining his shit eating grin, despite Mako’s harsh choice of words.

 

“Weird,” he grunts in reply.

 

Jamie shrugs and twirls his pencil between his fingers.  The silence stretches on before Jamie snaps his pencil to attention between his middle and index fingers.  “Wanna pose for me?” he asks, already beginning to darken the shadow cast by the bright gym lights above them on the face he’d already sketched out.  Mako’s brows look heavier and his lips look fuller in the dramatic lighting.

 

“Why?”

 

Jamie pauses his pencil and looks up at Mako.  “I think you’re real interesting,” he tells him.  “I got an assignment to ask a classmate to pose for a life drawing session.  Care to help a bloke out?”

 

Mako snorts, but he doesn't turn him down immediately.  A little warm ball of hope begins to swirl around in Jamie’s chest.

 

“Why me?” Mako asks.  Behind him, the rest of the wrestlers are heading into the locker room and Jamie looks back on the conversation he’d had to have with his classmate in annoyance.  He would have had more time with his muse if she hadn’t stopped him.  

 

“Like I said,” Jamie tells him, flipping his sketchbook closed and beginning to pack up the rest of his stuff. “I think you’re real interesting.  Better than doing a group study of a cheerleader or one of the other randos around school,” he points out, slinging his bag over his shoulder and flashing him a grin.

 

Mako doesn't reply, just stares at Jamie like he’s sizing him up.

 

“Right.  Well, just come by this weekend if you wanna do it.”  He has a hell of a time not laughing at his poor choice of words and just settles for grinning more.  “I got some booze lying around I can pay you with, if that’s something you’re into.”  No response, not even a raised brow this time.  Shit.  His grin starts slipping, and his throat feels like it’s closing up from nerves, making him stutter.  “I’m… I'm over in Alloy Hall, 302,” he says, feeling his cheeks beginning to heat up and his teeth catch on his bottom lip as he fights to keep his grin, shoves back on the anxiety that’s making his heart feel like Mako’s squeezing it hard.  He’d never had a long enough conversation with Mako to feel embarrassed before.  Christ, it was so awkward and exhilarating all at once.

 

The tension is broken by the short, dark skinned club manager calling Mako over to “scrub up and grub up!”  Jamie quickly collects himself and his things before tripping his way out of the bleachers and back to the safety of his room.  It’s once he’s there that he realizes he hadn't told Mako a time or date  _ and _ that he is more than willing to stay in his boring, boring, boring dorm for two days straight just to make sure he caught Mako if he did come.

 

And he does come.  Not in his wrestling uniform, unfortunately, but in jean shorts and a massive t-shirt that Jamie would swim in.

 

Not that he was already imagining himself stealing Mako’s shirt.  Or one of several hoodies Jamie had seen him wear in the fall and winter.

 

Nope.

 

“Can I come in?” Mako asks, once Jamie’s stunned silence got a little too long and weird.

 

A titter slips out, and Jamie drops his gaze, tries not to grin as he steps aside and lets Mako into his little room.  Despite not having left it for almost a full day and a half and having been bored out of his mind, the dorm room isn't clean, and Jamie mindfully kicks a thin coating of clothes out of the center of the room to make floor space for posing.

 

“Thanks for agreeing to come, mate,” he chatters as he quickly begins to kick other things out of the way, books and other assorted bullshit giving way and piling up on each other to leave a near spotless circle in the middle of the room.

 

“Sure,” Mako grunts, and he’s so otherwise quiet behind Jamie that he doesn't stop cleaning to turn around until he hears the click of a belt and his head whips around so quickly he feels his neck crack with the force of it.  

 

_ You don’t have to undress if you don’t want to.  Whatever you’re comfortable with, mate.   _ The words clog his throat and make him choke on nothing.   _ Holy shit. _

 

Mako’s kicked off his shoes and fully shoved his shorts _and_ underwear down by the time Jamie’s brain catches up with the situation and his mouth asks the stupidest question he's ever heard as Mako drops his pants and kicks them off into the corner.  “ _What_ _are you doing?_ ” he asks as Mako shucks his shirt off and stands there, naked and looking at him expectantly.  

 

“You’re going to be doing ‘life drawing,’ right?”  Mako reminds him, resting a broad hand on his hip and raising a silver brow at Jamie.  “I googled it.  You didn't really tell me anything .”

 

Mako had  _ googled life drawing  _ and now he was standing in Jamie’s dorm room, naked as the day he was born and Jamie had to act like he had been  _ expecting this all along _ .

 

“Right.  Yeah.  Sure,” he says smoothly.  He did this all the time in class.  It would only be weird for the first few minutes and then he would be too engrossed in figuring out foreshortening and proportion to worry about the fact that Mako was  _ even more attractive nude _ and his cock was bigger around than Jamie’s wrist.  

 

“So, are you going to draw me from memory or what?” Mako asks, snapping Jamie out of his wide-eyed surprise.  

 

“Right,” Jamie says, feeling a sense of déjà vu.  “Yeah.  Sure.”   He swallows and looks around for his sketch pad before plopping on his bed and clearing his throat. “Ah, just… stand in the middle of the space, feet shoulder width apart and relax,” he tells him, flipping hurriedly to a fresh page and beginning to make lines as Mako did as he was told.

 

Jamie does a few quick proportion sketches before he clears his throat again and makes sure his eyes meet Mako’s.  “If you get uncomfortable or need to take a break, just let me know,” he tells him, trying to be as professional as possible with his naked crush in his dorm room, about to do anything he asked of him.  

 

Mako nods, looking a mix of annoyed and bored, but Jamie knows that that’s just his default expression. 

 

“For the first bit, I’m just going to have you hold thirty second poses.  You can do whatever you want, just hold still once you're there and then count it down in your head, yeah?”  He says, his eyes flicking all over Mako, but  _ trying _ to stay away from his bits.

 

Mako grunts in response and starts awkwardly doing poses.  The first three are very similar and not at all helpful, but Jamie doesn't say anything, just gives him a thumbs up every time he makes a small, insignificant change. After that, Mako seems to start to get into it and, Jamie begins to suspect, aims to make his positioning as hard and exaggerated as possible for Jamie.  

 

The joke was on him, because Jamie was  _ fast _ and  _ good.   _ Watching Mako’s wrestling practices had adapted him to being able to make smooth, quick lines and translate the outlines on his paper into finished poses later very easily.  

 

After about ten minutes of the quick poses, Jamie suggests they move on to longer ones, and steps it up to five minutes.  From there, they move to ten minutes and then, right around forty-five minutes of posing, Jamie suggests they take a break.

 

Mako sits in his shorts and drinks a lukewarm beer from the case Jamie kept in the corner.  An untouched, open beer sits beside Jamie on the floor.  He tries to give his hand a rest, but he just ends up with his nose right back in his sketchbook.  Jamie works silently on a few sketches wherein which he hadn't been able to fully figure out Mako’s broad shoulders, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

 

“You're pretty good,” Mako says, and when Jamie looks up, he’s  _ close _ and peering over Jamie’s shoulder.  

 

Jamie makes that same stupid, tittering laugh and feels his entire face flush at the pleasure of the complement and the fact that Mako was so close.  “I’ve had to work hard for it,” he tells him, raising his prosthetic right hand with a delayed flourish of his fingers.  “Used to draw with this one.”

 

“Surprised you’d keep with the art degree if you’re using your non-dominant hand,” Mako admits, looking interested but without pity.  Jamie feels a warm feeling swirl around in his stomach and he takes a quick sip of his beer to hide his grin.

 

“Yeah, well… I got a passion for it, just had to change how I did it.”  He shrugs and puts the beer down to pick his pencil back up.  He continues sketching until Mako finishes his second beer and belches.  “Ready to get back at it?”

 

Mako nods and stretches before cracking his neck. “You didn't really take a break,” he points out.

 

“The breaks are mostly for you, mate.  Can't have my model fucking off on me because I’m an asshole,” Jamie tells him with a grin.

 

“Doing yoga and drinking beer is a pretty decent Saturday for me,” Mako points out with a snort as he stands and undoes his shorts again.

 

_ You don't have to be naked for this, you know. _

 

_ If it's uncomfortable you can keep the shorts. _

 

_ God, you're hot. _

 

Everything sticks in Jamie’s throat again as he forces his eyes back down to his paper and fights the heat in his cheeks.

 

“How do you want me?” Mako asks, once his shorts at in the corner again, and he’s standing in the middle of the cleared bit of floor.

 

Jamie has to work through the innuendo fighting to get out before he can answer.  “Can you do some wrestling holds?” he asks.

 

“Sure.”  Mako gets down on his hands and knees and mimes a simple hold.  

 

Jamie has already begun sketching when Mako makes a dissatisfied noise and sits up.

 

“Don't move,” Jamie is already chastising him and looking up at the movement.  He sees Mako looking for something and frowns at him.  “What’s wrong?”  Was he already tired of Jamie’s favor? 

 

“Give me your pillow,” Mako tells him, pointing behind Jamie.

 

Jamie twists around to get the pillow and tosses it to Mako, not sure what he’s on about.

 

Mako resumes the position with the pillow in his hold and shifts to get comfortable.  “Let me know when you want me to change,” he tells Jamie.

 

“Right-o,” Jamie chirps, trying to focus on the drawing and not that his pillow was going to smell like Mako now and he was never going to let his mum wash that pillowcase ever again.

 

They lapse into silence as Jamie concentrates on sketching Mako with more detail this time, adding how his larger freckles stretch with the pose and shading which muscles are flexed and which are relaxed.

 

Jamie keeps sketching away.  Every time he glances up, he sees Mako’s eyes studying him back.  Every other time, they’re on his prosthetic.  “Wanna know how it happened?” Jamie asks conversationally, slowly fluttering the fingers clutched around the edge of his sketch book.

 

Mako flicks his eyes away, but they drift back to the teasing fingers soon enough.

 

“Car wreck,” he says, stilling his fingers and beginning to sketch again.  “I’m a pain in the ass on a good day, on a bad…” he shrugs and his pencil stills, then he snorts and sets it aside, flexing his hand.  “Fucking cramps,” he says awkwardly, surprised that he was shying away from the accident.  He  _ never _ missed an opportunity to talk about himself.

 

“You should take a break,” Mako tells him, releasing the pillow and stretching out on the floor.

 

Jamie’s eyes flick over Mako, and he picks up his pencil to start sketching again, instead. 

 

“Don't want to take up all day  _ and _ all night,” Jamie tells him, continuing to sketch.

 

“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,” Mako replies. 

 

Jamie shrugs and pulls his knees up, hiding behind his sketch book and going off of memory and imagination instead of drawing Mako directly.  Exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing.  

 

Jamie keeps drawing anyway, until he hears a zipper and he drops his sketch pad--too quickly, he knows, when Mako’s lips twitch into a smirk.

 

Mako walks over to get two beers and opens one, chugging it as he walks back toward Jamie’s bed.  He tosses it into the ring of trash Jamie had kicked out of the way and moves to sit against the bed beside him. “I don't have plans,” Mako mentions, opening the second beer and taking a sip.

 

Jamie, reminded of his own half-finished beer, gropes around for it and takes a long drink before tucking it into his lap and resuming sketching.  He finishes it off a few seconds later and muffles a burp.  He’s about to go back to sketching when his sketchbook is dragged from his grip and held out of his reach.  Mako presses his beer hand against Jamie’s chest to hold him at bay and shoves him backwards.  It makes Jamie’s pulse spike, and he grins nervously as his leg curls beneath the bend of Mako’s from how he’s lying.  His other foot so close to Mako’s thigh, another centimeter would put them in contact.

 

“You know what they say about taking an artist’s sketchbook, right?” Jamie asks, realizing how close they were, how thick they were acting.

 

“I don't hang out with art farts,” Mako tells him, pulling back to flip through the stolen sketchbook.

 

Jamie snorts and then it turns into a high pitched giggle as he kicks Mako.  “What are you, in middle school?” He asks.

 

Mako smiles and keeps flipping through pages.

 

Jamie doesn't feel his face start to heat until Mako makes it far enough back to see the wrestling pictures.

 

“My suit really this tight?” He asks, raising a brow and tilting the sketchbook to the side.

 

Jamie blushes and shrugs a little, wishing he still had his beer to keep his hands busy.  It had left enough to his imagination that he had been pleasantly surprised when Mako dropped his shorts.  He probably shouldn't say that aloud.

 

“You finally shut up when I want to talk?” Mako asks, flipping to the next page.

 

Jamie shrugs and twists around to get up and grab another beer, but Mako grabs him by his shirt and shoves him back down.  He grins when he turns over and Mako shoves the rest of his beer into Jamie’s hands.  “Why do you keep your beer across the room instead of right next to the bed?” Mako asks.

 

That gets a snort and Jamie crushes the rest of the beer before tossing the can into the ring of trash.  “If I kept it ‘round, I would spend three times as much on beer and be constantly trashed,” he tells Mako.  “But, I mean, if you want to drag it over…” Jamie didn't mind getting trashed with Mako.  It was like a fucking dream come true, really.

 

Mako snorts and plops the sketchbook back into Jamie’s lap.  “How about I keep it over there with me.  This is thirsty work, and I wouldn’t want your lines to get wobbly now, you’re getting pretty good at drawing my ass.”

 

Jamie kicks Mako again and he’s a good sport, rolling off the bed and onto the floor with a chuckle.  It feels like a goddamned dream, the both of them buzzed, Mako shoving his shorts down his hips again.  

 

“You know you don’t have to be naked, mate,” Jamie tells him, ready to face the music.  

 

“You’re an hour late on that,” Mako replies, shimmying out of his shorts and stretching out on the floor again.  “You seemed really into this position.”

 

Jamie flushes scarlet and hides behind his sketchbook.  He doesn’t know if he wants Mako to be drunk already or for this to be uninhibited flirting.  Doesn’t know which one would be worse.

 

“Pour some more booze on it, you lush,” he says, collecting himself and finally peeking around his sketchbook.  Mako’s opening another beer, and doesn’t seem to be concerned with Jamie’s embarrassment.

 

“Thought I had to stay still,” Mako says after taking a long pull from the beer.

 

“Feel like this is kind of devolving,” Jamie admits, tempted to sketch more, but… well, Mako was naked on his floor and pouring beer down his throat.  He wasn’t likely to get more real work done on this project.

 

“Yeah?” Mako asks.  “That mean you think I should get ready to leave?”  He doesn’t move, though, and peers at Jamie from his spot on the floor with a lazy smile.  

 

Jamie starts to shake his head, but if he wasn't drawing the naked, drunk man on his floor, then what were they going to do?  Just hang out, naked and drunk? Drink more until Jamie made more of a fool of himself?

 

What if Mako wasn't just teasing him, though?

 

Jamie bites his lip and figures that Mako thinks he’s a creepy cunt already, might as well prove it and let his eyes wander for the last time.  He slowly nods and lets his eyes slide along the curve of Mako’s soft pecs and the swell of his massive gut, down to the nest of black hair that sprouted around his, frankly, massive cock.

 

Which was much less flaccid than when their session had started.

 

Huh.  Well, that happened sometimes.

 

“Fuck,” Mako says, and that jerks Jamie's eyes back up to his face.  “You just going to keep staring?” He asks before draining another beer and adding it to the pile.

 

“What else would I do?” Jamie asks, needing a go-ahead, some sign that this wasn't a dream or a one-sided product of his own imagination.  That Mako is actually lying on his floor, carelessly naked and becoming harder with each flick of Jamie’s eyes.  That he wants the attention--  _ Jamie’s  _ attention.

 

“You can't be fucking serious, mate,” Mako says, sitting up on his elbows and furrowing his brows.  “Been here for almost two hours, posing however you like, and all you’ve actually been doing is drawing my ass.”

 

Excuses that Jamie hadn't  _ only _ drawn his ass rise up, but fall right back into Jamie's throat.  “Y’gotta nice ass,” he says, instead, his voice thin and uncertain.

 

“Then at least act like you want to fuck it, mate.  Christ.”

 

Oh.  Jamie feels his entire body flush with a mix of relief and embarrassment and an untapped eagerness.

 

“Y-yeah?” Jamie asks, flipping his sketchbook closed and setting it to the side.  Fuck, what if this was a joke?  He was making a fool of himself and Mako was probably  _ joking _ .  What if he was only joking?  Crueler tricks had been played on him-- but Jamie had never wanted anything this badly before.  Mako was gorgeous.  

 

A chuckle that sounds more like gravelly thunder makes Mako’s stomach jerk, and he smirks at Jamie.  “Yeah,” he agrees, finishing another beer and then resting his hands on his stomach, watching Jamie watch him through half-lidded eyes.  “Especially when you always look at me like that,” he tells him.  “You’re such a fucking creep.”  Jamie would have flinched away from the insult if it hadn't been  _ dripping  _ with warmth.  Desire.

 

“You like it,” Jamie points out, slowly climbing off the bed and walking over to sit beside the case of beer, his bare knee almost touching Mako’s hip.

 

Mako shakes his head and turns onto his side.  His hard cock makes an  _ actual thudding sound _ as it flops on Jamie’s floor, and he feels dizzy for a second, the sudden rush of heat leaving him reeling, though he was sitting down.

 

“I love it,” Mako corrects him.  “The way you look at me… fuck, mate, I ain't been looked at like a massive side of meat since I got scouted for college wrestling.”  His hand slides down his gut to take his massive cock in his hand.  “You know how many times I’ve left practice stiff?” 

 

Jamie nearly chokes on his own tongue, he inhales so hard, so fast.

 

“To be honest, thought this was just a way for you to get me alone-- alone  _ and  _ naked.”  Mako gives himself a stroke and a pleased sound rumbles in the back of his throat.  

 

Jamie feels his gut jerk so hard, he wonders if something inside him just broke and started bleeding all over the place.  He feels hot and too clothed and he wants to say something cool, but all he can do is keep staring, watch Mako pump himself and rub the flat of his palm over the broad head of his cock.

 

Mako raises a brow at Jamie’s silence and his hand stills, squeezing the thick base of his cock.  “You keep making me doubt you want to fuck around,” Mako says. His words drag Jamie’s eyes back up to his face.  “Why are you down here if you’re not going to help a bloke out?” Mako asks.

 

“Th-think you’re doing alright on your own,” Jamie admits, feeling absolutely pinned by Mako’s intense gaze.  He feels too hot for his clothes again, too confined.

 

This was a real, actual thing that was happening.

 

Mako sits up and the hand that just touched his cock reaches for Jamie, grabs him by the front of his shirt and drags him forward to mash Mako’s lips against Jamie’s

 

Holy.  Shit.  Holy shit.

 

Jamie takes a few seconds to kiss back, but when he does, it’s perfect.  Beer and foul breath flood his mouth when he slides his tongue out to meet Mako’s.  Large, strong hands move him like he weighs nothing, and he feels the thick press of Mako’s cock beneath him as he’s settled into straddling Mako’s lap.  He wishes his pants were already off.

 

Mako’s hands slide up his shirt and he pulls back to let him drag it off.  Mako’s mouth falls to Jamie’s neck, and he grinds down against Mako.

 

“Christ,” Jamie breathes as hands grip him, drag him down harder.  He wraps his arms around Mako’s shoulders as lips suck at his neck, his chest, the freckles spotting his shoulders.  “Holy shit.”

 

Mako laughs and it jolts his stomach against Jamie, makes his entire body bounce beneath him, and he suddenly wants to feel that same laugh when they’re fucking.  

 

“Get my shorts off,” Jamie demands.

 

Mako grins and rolls up onto his knees, plopping Jamie on the floor and wrenching his shorts open and down.  He hears a seam pop and God, it’s electrifying.  

 

“Fuck me,” Jamie demands.

 

“No,” Mako rumbles, taking Jamie in his hand and giving him a gentle squeeze.  “Suck my cock,” he tells him, tugging at Jamie’s prick, drawing a delighted gasp from him.  “Then,  _ you _ fuck  _ me _ ,” he says.

 

“Oh my God,” Jamie groans, shaking his head, but not rejecting the idea.  Mako chuckles and leans down to suck on Jamie’s abs, dip his tongue into his belly button as he gives him a rough pull.  “Holy shit,” he gasps when he’s let go and Mako shifts to lie back again, legs spread and reaching for another beer.

 

Jamie stays spread across the floor for a second before he moves into action, grabbing lubricant and a condom from his bedside table.  He grabs the pillow Mako had thrown at him as an afterthought, then he’s back on the floor, the pillow beneath his knees and Mako’s dick head sliding salty and hot between his lips.  Mako’s cock is just as heavy as he had expected against his tongue, and his lips stretch around the girth of it.  He wonders how deep he can take Mako, widens his jaw and relaxes his throat and goes down on him hard, swallowing his gag reflex and drawing back before shoving down again.

 

Mako curses and Jamie feels a wet hand grab for him, soaked in beer from the smell of it.  He’d made Mako spill his beer.  Jamie goes down until he feels wiry pubic hair tickling his lips and nose.  He groans, his throat aching with the strain, but the satisfaction of Mako’s hand gripping his hair and the taste of him, the way Mako’s heel was hooking around Jamie's back and how, when Jamie opens his eyes, his head is thrown back, his chest is wet with beer.

 

Jamie pulls back and takes a harsh breath, his hand taking Mako’s spit-slick cock and beginning to pump him, licking drool from his lips and leaning forward to kiss the head, then taking Mako in again.  He did it slower this time, sucking and massaging Mako’s cock as he went down to the root again, swallowing with each inch and slurping at the excess spit.

 

Mako groans and grips Jamie’s hair harder.  “Holy shit,” he rumbles, his voice rasping.

 

It’s music to Jamie’s ears, and he hopes if he makes this the blowjob of Mako’s life, he’ll come back for more.  Come back for Jamie instead of the promise of free booze and satisfied curiosity.

 

He swallows around Mako and feels his throat ache more.  It’s going to be sore for days, but it’s worth it.  So worth it as Mako drags his nails against Jamie’s scalp and takes a harder grip on his hair.  “Fuck,” he groans and his hips thrust against Jamie’s throat, causing him to choke and pull back, sucking lightly on Mako’s head while he regains control of his aching throat.

 

“Sorry,” Mako rumbles roughly, releasing Jamie's hair and petting him instead.  “Shit, you alright?”

 

Jamie pauses and pulls away to swallow the come and drool that was acruing in his mouth.  “I'm fine,” he croaks, rubbing his thumb against the base of Mako’s cock, surprised he’d been able to fit so much of it into his mouth.  “Keep pulling my hair and I’ll come before I’m inside you, though,” he tells Mako with a cheeky grin.

 

Mako’s hand goes from petting to pulling again, and he holds Jamie still as his other hand takes up his own cock and starts pumping himself. 

 

Jamie recognizes that Mako’s going hard and fast to finish himself off, and he gets down on his elbows to nuzzle and lick Mako’s head as he waits for him to come on his face.

 

“Fuck…” Mako groans before his hand tenses in Jamie’s hair and he draws him closer as he finally comes, spurting up to Jamie’s forehead and then dripping onto his cheek, nose and lips.

 

Jamie’s abused throat cracks in the middle of his giggle and he licks his lips reflexively, staring up at Mako like he still can't believe this is happening and especially not to him.

 

“Ready to fuck me?” Mako asks, his harsh grip turning into a pet again.

 

“Fuck yes,” Jamie says, flashing Mako a grin and leaning in to kiss his stomach, up to his cute outie belly button and then further up his chest and to his neck.  “Kind of wish you’d buggered me, though,” he admits as he pulls away to get the lube and opens the cap.

 

Mako grunts in response and turns over, his knees gathered beneath him and his cheek pressed to the floor.  He’s sweaty and he looks exhausted, but in a happy way. 

 

Jamie admires the view for a second before bracing his prosthetic against Mako’s ass cheek and using his other hand to prep him.  He wasn't exactly tight, but he seemed really relaxed after the blowjob, and he didn't have any real ties to Jamie so he shouldn't feel the burn of half-baked jealousy in his gut.  It’s still there, though.  Mako had been so quick to want to fuck, maybe he got screwed on a regular basis.

 

Jamie shakes the paranoia away and slides a second finger in, then a third, when Mako tells him to hurry up.  Jamie leans in to give his ass a cheeky bite, and Mako laughs, calls him a cunt.

 

Jamie rests his cheek against Mako’s ass after that and marvels at how fucking easy and intimate it is to be with Mako.  He’s screwed around before, but it never felt like this.  Shit, maybe he was in love.

 

Once he’s sure he’s lubed Mako up enough, he slicks himself and gets up on his knees between Mako’s legs.  He picks up the pillow off the ground and flops it over onto Mako’s head.

 

“Fuck you,” Mako tells him, but he wraps his arms around it and drags it under his face all the same.

 

Jamie replies with a delighted laugh and then slowly begins to press in.

 

Mako’s hot and slick, and pressing into him feels like a goddamned dream.  Jamie whimpers as his cock is finally rewarded for its earlier neglect, and he slowly fucks his way into Mako, his hands gripping Mako’s hips and his knobby knees sliding against the hard floor.

 

Mako doesn't make a sound, just lies there and lets Jamie use him.  Jamie licks his lips and still tastes Mako, feels the come drying on his cheek and forehead and he raises his left hand to smack Mako’s ass.

 

The young man beneath him jolts back onto his cock and a choked groan leaves his throat.  “Harder,” he urges, and Jamie’s not sure which, so he just does both, slamming into Mako’s ass harder and bringing down his left hand in a stinging slap to Mako’s rump.

 

“Yeah,” Mako mumbles, sounding delighted.  “Fuck yeah,” he groans, beginning to shift back to meet Jamie’s cock and shivering with every swat.

 

“Yeah?” Jamie asks, his voice thick from the rough head he’d given.  “Like that, huh?” he teases, pinching Mako’s ass cheek right below the swell of the glut.

 

Mako jerks and shoves back against Jamie’s thrusts harder.  “Maybe you should focus on finding my prostate before you move on to dirty talk,” he says, his tone light.

 

“Aiming’s overrated,” Jamie replies with a snicker.  “If I fuck you enough times, I’ll hit it eventually,” he jokes, though he does adjust his aim toward Mako’s belly button.

 

He knows when he finds it, because Mako jumps like he’s been electrocuted and Jamie lets out a high giggle.  “See?”

 

“Fuck you,” Mako replies, burying his face in the pillow.

 

“Hope so, mate,” Jamie says through panted breaths.  “If there’s a next time, I want you to,” he admits.

 

Mako makes a strangled noise and Jamie smacks his ass again, laughing as he grips Mako’s hips tighter, fucks him faster.

 

When Jamie comes, it’s with a few last jerky, haphazard thrusts, sweat slicking between his stomach and Mako’s back.  A strangled giggle worms its way out of his throat as he collapses against Mako, breathing in the sweaty musk of him and running his fingers across the freckles and moles spotting Mako’s muscled back. 

 

They lie there for a while, Jamie on top of Mako and the both of them panting.  Jamie shifts once his heart has slowed, and he presses a tender kiss to Mako’s back.  He pulls out and slips the condom off, struggling to tie the top a little with his prosthetic, but he gets it done before slumping down next to Mako on the floor.

 

“Beer?” Mako asks, dragging the case closer and popping one open for himself.

 

“Fuck yeah,” Jamie says, rolling onto his back and removing his prosthetic before stretching.

 

Mako hands him the beer and Jamie just stares at him before he laughs and opens it for him.  

 

“Ass,” he accuses.  

 

They lie there together, sweaty and draining Jamie’s beer to the last can.  Mako opens Jamie’s before handing them over, and Jamie murmurs a soft thanks with each can, progressively getting more slurred and more cuddly until he falls asleep, tucked against Mako’s side.

 

Jamie wakes up in his bed, his face wiped clean, and his sketchbook and prosthetic resting on his bedside table.  His throat is sore, and he swallows just to convince himself that everything that had happened wasn’t a dream.  He had deep throated the shit out of Mako’s monster donger, and then he had fucked the largest guy on the wrestling team.

 

He looks at the time, and it’s only eleven at night.  He groans and shifts on the bed, abruptly realizing that he had been tucked in.  Jamie can’t help smiling as he presses his face into his pillow.  

 

Christ, Mako was a fucking saint.

 

He reluctantly grabs his sketchbook, his prosthetic clattering to the floor as he angles it into the moonlight to see what the hell he’d drawn earlier in the evening.  He sees a surprisingly decent caricature of himself sleeping and the scribbled words, “stick around after practice tomorrow.”  Jamie bites his lip and starts flipping back to the sheet of 30 second poses to start figuring out what he could use for his project.  He’d scribbled his signature at the bottom of the page where, now, an arrow and a few question marks pointed to it in light pencil.

 

Jamie grins and tosses his sketch book on the floor before rolling over in his bed and laughing like a maniac.  Mako wanted to see him again and he wanted to know his name.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to wodensskadi and all of my other patrons for their support!

Jamie doesn't sleep after finding the notes in his sketchbook.  Instead, he spends several hours drawing Mako.  

Sketches of his hair splayed around him as he lay on Jamie’s floor; his neat trick of balancing a beer can on his belly button; his face when he laughed at something ridiculous Jamie had said; the squint of his eyes; the way he flushed from his chest and neck but it barely ever reached his face.

Jamie eventually falls asleep in his sketchbook and sleeps right through his two morning classes.

He has to rush to his life drawing class and doesn't realize he’s got pencil smeared across his face until four classmates have walked away laughing and one of them finally takes pity on him and motions to her face. He wipes it off, but it’s now staining his mostly-clean shirt.  He had been trying to make an effort to look nice-ish for when he met Mako, but maybe it was better to just give him the full Jamie experience--smeared with graphite and other assorted media.

It doesn't take long for him to be distracted by class starting.  They receive personal feedback on the start of their projects and then they set to making a sketch of their subject using what they have so far as references.

Jamie’s face burns as he tries to avoid drawing any of the lewd ideas for poses that pop into his mind; Mako bowed over with his knees beneath him; Mako half hard and staring from beneath dark brows; Mako with his thick lips stretched around a cock--specifically Jamie’s.  He settles for drawing Mako’s top half, his arms crossed and a serious expression on his face.  He falters when he starts detailing Mako’s shoulders, and ends up flipping through all of his work from the previous night ten times before he finally gets them right.

He’d moved on to the soft bits of Mako’s chest when he hears a curious, “who’s that?”

Jamie flinches and looks up at the girl who had used him for her project.

“The Hog,” he supplies.

“Oh, like from the wrestling team?” She asks, which saves him from having to tell her about Mako.  

“Yeah,” he says, a soft smile curving his lips.  Maybe he would geek out anyway.  He certainly felt like he deserved to.  

“Huh.”

“He placed at state last year,” Jamie supplies, going back to his drawing and it flows a little better now that it’s not his whole focus.  Mako’s shoulders finally come together, all bulky muscle, and Jamie puts in some shading before setting his pencil down.

“Neat,” the girl says, but it’s obvious she doesn't care.

Jamie spends the rest of the class talking idly to her about Mako, even after she tries to change the subject.  He had always tried to hide his unhealthy fixation before, but now that Mako had been naked in his room and they had actually fucked, it seemed stupid to pretend that he didn't think that Mako Rutledge was the most amazing person on campus.

By the time the instructor let them out, Jamie had sketched several different angles of the same pose based on his reference pictures, and he was eager to show Mako his progress.

Jamie can’t sketch during wrestling practice.  He tries, but every time he puts his pencil to the paper, he gets too caught up in openly staring to actually start anything.  For the first time, he doesn’t feel like he’s strange for wanting to stare.  For the first time, he doesn’t feel like he’s somehow being invasive. For the first time, he just sits there and watches.

It’s probably the most relaxing thing he’s done in months.  Just watching and not worrying about looking busy for the sake of not being told to leave. 

He had been _invited_.

Jamie wraps his arms around his knees and watches with a grin.  He’s at the top of the bleachers, trying to contain the urge to shout for Mako as he spars with one of the smaller wrestlers, obviously going easy on him, teaching him technique.  When they part and Mako moves to sit on the sideline, his eyes catch Jamie’s.  Jamie’s face flushes, and he would swear that Mako’s smirking as he lifts the bottle in acknowledgement before drinking deeply.

_Stick around after practice._

Holy shit, it wasn't going to be just a single fuck.  

He hopes.  That might not be what Mako has in mind and the more he tells himself that, the more he’s certain that he’s going to get laid two nights in a fucking row.  

What if it becomes regular?  What if they _date_?

Jamie starts to feel more and more nervous as the practice winds down and he can't keep his left leg from jittering.

Mako waves at him when practice ends and holds up five fingers.  Five minutes?  Maybe?  Jamie’s shit at waiting, but he can if he wants.

He wants Mako.

Five minutes feels like forever of sitting and waiting in the empty gym, but as the last bit ticks by, the team begins to trickle out of the locker room, and once Jamie starts moving down the stacks of bleachers, Mako and Reinhardt are the only two still in the locker rooms.

Jamie shuffles across the gym floor, awkwardly fluttering his fingers at the energetic manager who grins at him and waves like they’re good friends. He even knows his name somehow.

Reinhardt is coming out, hair damp and in his usual jeans and polo attire as Jamie ventures into the locker room.  He gives Jamie a wink and a nudge before calling a last goodbye to Mako.

Jamie follows Mako’s voice back into a room labeled, “WRESTLING,” and he hears the hiss of a shower as he passes the rows of lockers.

He creeps closer, Reinhardt’s apparent acceptance emboldening him.

When he enters the shower room, he examines the row of five separate shower areas, only one of which has the water running.  He chews on his lip and he can already feel his entire body tingling with excitement.

He’s tempted, so tempted to just strip down and join Mako. He’s setting his shit down when a thick hand clamps down on his shoulder and turns him around.

Jamie yelps and lashes out, his prosthetic arm bouncing off of Mako’s massive belly.  “Oh,” he says when Mako lets go of his shoulder to rub his stomach.

“Oh?”  Mako lets out a laugh that echoes on the tile.  “Shit, mate, you’ve still got a right on you,” he tells Jamie.

Jamie laughs hollowly and he’s glad that the man is so fucking solid, otherwise he might have actually hurt him with the metal hand.

“Thought you were in the shower,” he says.  Is it okay for him to eye Mako in his uniform?  Should he let him shower first and then see what he wanted to meet for?

Hopefully sex.

“Not yet,” Mako tells him, his face unreadable.

Jamie stands there awkwardly for a second before holding out his left hand.  “Jamison Fawkes,” he introduces himself with a nervous grin.

Mako automatically offers his right hand and they both hesitate before Jamie brings his metal hand up for a shake.

“Mako Rutledge,” Mako says, like Jamie hadn't known it all along.

“Yeah,” Jamie says with a soft laugh that makes Mako raise a brow.  He clears his throat and nods back at the gym.  “Should I wait, or...?”

Mako smirks and raises an eyebrow.  “What, wanna join me?” He asks.

Jamie feels his breath leave his body all at once and then fire flushes through him.  “Showering” with Mako in such a public place? Anyone in the athletic department could walk in.  Holy shit.

Jamie hadn't been so much hesitating as just taking in the wild suggestion and enjoying the jolt it sent through his gut.  Fucking electrifying.  But when he starts tugging his t-shirt off, Mako lets out a deep laugh and punches his arm. It’s probably a show of affection, but still makes him lose feeling in the appendage for several seconds.

“That was a joke,” Mako tells him.

“Right,” Jamie says weakly, rubbing his arm and smiling. Unfortunately, his shirt stays on.

“You can still watch,” Mako says, too much humor in his eyes for it to be as off handed as it sounds.

Jamie’s face is already too red to flush further, and he bites his lip before coughing and asking, “ ‘nother joke?”

Mako shrugs and peels the straps of his wrestling uniform down, letting them snap against his skin.  As he walks away, he sheds the uniform onto the floor.

Jamie stares, because this is the start of any number of wet dreams he’s had over the last year and a half and he’s not going to miss a goddamned second of Mako taking off that uniform.

“Draw a picture, I’ll last longer,” Mako grunts when he notices.

Jamie goes through a series of emotions before a high titer slips out of his throat.  Confusion edging on worry, then realization followed by delight.

“Handsome _and_ funny,” Jamie says.

Mako smiles at him before stepping behind the partition of tile that separates the showers from the rest of the locker room.

Jamie raises his hands to his cheeks and feels how hot they are, how cold his metal hand is.  He rubs his face firmly before taking a deep breath and adjusting himself.  He could do this.

Jamie walks to the tile partition and then looks down to see that he’s already tenting his pants, and if Mako wasn't serious about the shower he probably didn't want to take care of this in such a public place.

Jamie gauges the time it will take to get back to his room and he’ll probably be ready to go again by the time they get there, so he walks over to the single stall, sits on the toilet and has a very satisfying wank.

When he gets out, Mako is dressed.  Jamie doesn't know when the shower stopped, but Mako’s got a knowing smirk on his thick lips.  

Jamie picks his bag up and winks at Mako.  “Can't tease a guy like that, mate.”

“You going to be good to go again?” Mako asks.  He’s already got his shoes and pack and everything.  Maybe Jamie wasn't as quick as he thought.

He didn't like to rush, but he wasn't really made for stamina, and Mako got him hot and bothered in a way that just made tugging off quick and easy, nearly no work needed as he thought of Mako’s bulk crushing him into a bed.

“Yeah, few minutes and I’ll be good,” Jamie says with a sheepish shrug.

“Good.”

Jamie grins and follows Mako out of the locker rooms.

Jamie’s dorm is a short walk from the gym, so he assumes that they’re going to Mako’s when he leads Jamie to the bus stop. Mako sits close to Jamie on the bus, allowing their knees to touch the whole way.  Jamie wishes he could climb onto Mako’s lap.  His thick thighs look so inviting, perfect for Jamie’s ass, and his stomach and chest would make excellent pillows.

Jamie’s snapped out of his thoughts of over the top public affection when Mako stands and heads for the door of the bus. Damn near tripping over his own gangly legs to follow, Jamie stumbles into Mako’s side.  A big, warm, steadying hand sends electricity down Jamie’s spine, and he leans into it, wishing it would never leave. But it does, once Mako sees him regain his balance, and he would normally swoon at not being handled with kid gloves and offered assistance down the steps, but that also meant that Mako wasn’t touching him.

“This… is not a dorm,” Jamie says, staring up at the greasy diner near the south side of campus.  It was just a few hundred yards from the closest bar to the school and did not accept food credits despite half its business coming from the campus.

“Wanted a bite first.  That okay?”  Mako asks.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, trying to figure out what he could possibly get at the diner that wouldn’t break his budget and would take up the time that Mako would be eating a meal.  Maybe he could get away with just drawing the whole time.  Usually when the people he was with were eating and he didn’t have the cash to join them, they complained.  

Mako leads the way to a table and drops into the booth seat.  It creaks and protests, but ultimately settles into submission.

Jamie sits across from him and starts pulling out his sketchbook.

“Done anything new since last night?” Mako asks, waving the waitress over like he didn’t have her attention just by walking in.

“Yeah, a few poses in class.  Your shoulders are a bitch and a half to get right,” Jamie says, flipping to the newer sketches and studying them before reluctantly handing the sketchbook over.

“I think you overexaggerated them.  They’re not _that_ muscled,” Mako says.  He looks amused at the drawings at least.  

Jamie thanks his lucky stars that Mako isn’t creeped out.

“No exaggerations here, mate.  It is what it is and you got some grade A shoulders,” Jamie answers before he even realizes what he’s saying.

Mako laughs and hands the sketchbook back to Jamie.  If anything, the laugh makes him blush more.

When the waitress comes by, she only has one menu.  “The usual, hun?” She asks Mako while holding the menu out for Jamie. Jamie waves it off and shifts his sketchbook under his bag more out of habit than being embarrassed that he had a bunch of naked Mako torsos sketched all over the page.

“Not hungry?” Mako asks.

“Not really,” Jamie lies.  He had been in such a rush to get to class that he hadn’t even dipped into the caf’ to get a candy bar.  Luckily, his stomach doesn’t growl and give that fact away.

Mako shrugs and nods at the waitress as she takes the menu and leaves.  She smiles and gives him a wink.  Jamie’s positive that Mako is watching her ass on her way back to the kitchen to put in his order.

Jamie drags his sketchbook back out to hide behind, jealousy prickling in his stomach and making him want to gag.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before one of Mako’s fingers touches the top of Jamie’s sketchbook and he pushes it down enough that he can see Jamie’s face.

“I— uh—…” Jamie’s throat feels like it’s closing up and he can’t get anything coherent out.  

“Would you fight the waitress over me?” Mako asks, gently pushing Jamie’s sketchbook all the way down to rest on the table.

Jamie gapes at him for a second before his face lights up and he laughs, high and long.  “Wouldn’t be a fair fight, mate,” he says, glad that the unfortunate tension was broken.  “I’m only half here.”

He holds up his right hand and kicks his prosthetic leg under the table.  He hits something, and he thinks it’s the other chair before Mako’s foot hooks behind his left ankle and drags it forward so that their legs are touching.

“I’m a regular here—I don’t shit where I eat,” he says. 

Jamie snorts and shrugs.  “Sure, mate.”

“You going to get huffy if I tell you I don’t like to date?” Mako asks.

Jamie’s chest throbs uncomfortably, but he shakes his head.  “Nah, your choice.  I don’t do much of it myself,” he admits.  Not that it was by choice.  If he could date Mako, he would be so into dating.

Mako nods and leaves his leg pressed against Jamie’s.  

“So is this just… a friendly hangout?” Jamie asks, shoving at his disappointment.  He had wanted this to be a date.  Now he just feelssilly.  Of course Mako doesn’t want to date him. Mako makes a noncommittal noise and leans forward, smirking and looking about as handsome as Jamie has ever seen him.  “I’d like to go to my dorm after.  Screw around a little.”

“ _Real_ friendly,” Jamie says, his face bouncing from disappointed to grinning in an instant. Mako’s face changes from smirk to a full-on grin, and Jamie falls deeper in love.

They sit there staring at eachother for a few seconds like idiots.

“I really like your face,” Mako says suddenly.

Jamie’s entire body goes hot and he lets out another giggle.  “Like yours too.  It’s real… shit, what’s the guy version of pretty?”

Mako’s cheeks darken, and Jamie feels his cheeks ache with the strain of his grin.

“Thought you stopped flushing at your neck,” Jamie says, jiggling his leg against Mako’s and winking.  He was getting laid tonight.  At Mako’s place.  It was happening. Mako rolls his eyes and leans back, crossing his arms and letting out a big sigh.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Jamie tells him.

“You just don’t stop, do you?” Mako asks, and his leg moves like it’s going to draw back to his side of the table.

“Nope,” Jamie says with a grin, hooking his left leg around Mako’s to keep it from pulling away.  Mako jerks his leg and Jamie gives an exaggerated wince.  “Don’t pull me leg off!” 

Mako’s leg stops and he looks like he just accidentally knocked out Jamie’s teeth. Jamie can’t keep a straight face at that and reaches for Mako’s arm across the table.  “Relax mate, it’s the wrong leg for all that.” He taps his prosthesis against Mako’s ankle.  

“You’re a piece of shit,” Mako says, but he’s smiling just a bit, and it makes Jamie grin.

“Still wanna fuck me?” He asks hopefully, fluttering his fingertips against Mako’s arm, playful and light. Mako smirks and opens his mouth to reply, but the waitress comes with his food: a full plate of fries loaded with cheese and bacon, a hamburger and what looks like a monster grilled cheese with ham, turkey and several different colored cheeses oozing out of the butter toasted crust.

Jamie’s stomach doesn’t just growl, it roars.  The only thing that mitigates his embarrassment is the look the waitress has when she sees him all over Mako.  Once she leaves, Jamie retracts his legs and arm and pulls his sketchbook back in front of him, gives drawing a shot.  Something to focus on instead of how fucking delicious everything looks and smells and how he doesn’t have the money for this kind of bullshit.

The scrape of a plate brings his nose back up over his art, and he sees that Mako’s removed half of his sandwich from the plate and set it on top of the hamburger.  The plate is clearly closer to Jamie’s side of the table. Mako eyes Jamie,  then starts picking out some choice cheesy fries to eat.  

“Sharing food is kind of date-y, innit?” Jamie points out, though he doesn’t think twice about putting his sketchbook back down and pulling the sandwich closer.

“It’s friend-y,” Mako corrects him.  

Jamie snorts and takes a bite of the sandwich.  He ends up with about 20 centimeters of cheese trailing from his mouth.  He uses his tongue to reel it in and then notices that Mako’s watching him.  He looks amused as he bites into his hamburger.

“So why don’t you like to date?” Jamie asks, trying to be as casual as possible, but he doesn’t know why he even bothers.  He’s the opposite of low key.

“Too much effort,” Mako says.  

“Oh.”  Well.  That wasn’t something Jamie could argue.  He had dated twice in his life and both relationships had ended because he couldn’t put in the time to maintain them.  Granted, he was in the hospital for the last break up, but even before the accident, he wasn’t the most attentive boyfriend.

Mako says something when the silence stretches.  Jamie looks up from staring off into space and forces a smile.  “Hmm?”

“Said friends are easier,” Mako tells him.

“Friends _is_ easy,” he agrees.

Mako’s mouth twitches into a half smile and he continued eating.

Jamie scarfs his half of the cheesy monstrosity down.  He can already feel it sticking to his ribs.  He probably hasn’t had anything of this quality in months, not since his mum had been in town and taken him out to eat. Once he’s finished, Jamie sits silently for two seconds before he can’t help himself.  He wipes the grease off his fingers the best he can before he grabs his sketchbook and starts doodling.

“Want any fries?” Mako asks around a mouthful of burger.

Jamie doesn’t glance up, just nods and keeps drawing, deep into a cute little cartoon version of Mako he was drawing.  It was reminiscent of his old style, back before he lost his right hand. The plate scrapes the table as it’s pushed closer, and Jamie absently takes a fry from it.  His left leg jiggles beneath the table, and he’s not sure if it’s the post keeping the table up or Mako’s leg that it’s constantly brushing against.  He would love to think it’s Mako’s leg, but Mako isn’t telling him to stop, so it’s unlikely.

Mako is focused solely on eating now, and it’s a bit of a relief.  Jamie can’t remember the last time he’s interacted with someone so much and not fucked something up.  The longer everything went on, the more likely he was to shit all over everything.  Normally, people ask what he’s drawing or if they can see it, but the most Mako does is watch Jamie scribble away while he chews. 

He kind of wishes Mako would bug him.  The silence gives him some time to revisit his disappointment in Mako not wanting to date, and if he hadn’t been fairly guaranteed a lay anyway, he would be right depressed about it. Mako seems more into being friends with benefits, which is something Jamie’s pretty sure he can swing.

Maybe.

He’d never tried before.

“Never pegged you for a jealous type,” Mako says once his hamburger is tucked away and their drinks have been refilled.

Jamie shrugs and flashes him a wide smile.  “I’m full of surprises, mate.”

Mako hums and picks up his half of the cheesy sandwich.  

Jamie feels the silence chafe at him.  He knows that it’s not as awkward or gaping as it feels, but he reaches for something to fill the space, something to keep Mako interested.  

“So… you swing both ways?” he asks, cleaning up a few lines and then starting a little doodle of himself in the same style.

Mako snorts and Jamie realizes just how shitty a question it was. Mako shrugs, though, not seemingly bothered by it.  “I guess.  You?”

Jamie mirrors Mako’s shrug and wishes he had the same smoothness he had earlier, or when they were drunk and hanging out in his room.  Maybe they could get a drink at the bar across the street before they went to Mako’s.  “Not really,” he says, after just long enough that he’s fully regretted asking.

Mako looks like he’s enjoying how embarrassed Jamie looks, chuckling as he shoves half of what remains of the sandwich in his mouth.  It doesn’t make Jamie feel better.

“You keep tensing up,” Mako says after studying Jamie while he chews and swallows.

Jamie gnaws on the inside of his cheek and glances up from his sketchbook.  Mako looks earnest, the teasing curl to his thick lips has gone, and he’s got a brow raised expectantly. Jamie shrugs and keeps sketching a doodle of the little cartoon Mako fucking cartoon Jamie.

“Not great with silence,” he tells him.  “Keep thinkin’ it means you’re losing interest.”

Mako hums and pushes the rest of the sandwich into his mouth.  “Let’s go,” he says.

Jamie grabs his bag and his sketchbook and then wiggles his way out of the booth.

Mako heads straight for the door.  Jamie grabs a few more fries, then follows him, finding it odd that he didn’t pay, but no one was calling him a thief.

They don’t wait at the bus stop. Mako takes him a few blocks back toward campus and around the corner to a fairly well kept wood and brick bungalow.  There is a large porch that wraps around half of it, and a few familiar faces from the wresting team lounging on it with beer cans and girls.

Jamie’s face flushes and his pulse quickens.  This must be the house the majority of the wrestling team lives in.  He’s always wanted to come here, but felt it was too close to stalking territory.

Mako grunts at the greetings thrown at him by two of the wrestlers on the porch, and Jamie gives them both a flutter of his fingers when they acknowledge him as well.  His palm is sweating and for some reason he feels even more nervous than when he had Mako naked in his dorm.  

There is a giant fireplace in the living area and two reading nooks flanking the entrance.  He would love to set up on one of the cushioned ledges and draw sometime.  The natural light looks inviting, even in the evening.  “How quiet are we gonna have to be?” Jamie asks, noticing all the names on the doors they pass.

“We don’t,” Mako says, leading Jamie to a set of stairs that groan when they begin to mount them.  

Jamie grins and keeps following Mako, his excitement building.  Any nervousness before has completely gone, and every doubt he had had at the restaurant feels like a distant, ridiculous memory.  He was in the wrestling house, and Mako was going to fuck him.

When they reach Mako’s room, he calmly opens the door and allows Jamie to enter first.  It’s spacious, and his room is right under a low-pitched gable, allowing both of them plenty of headroom between the lacquered exposed beams.  The window that overlooks the front of the house has its own built-in nook, and Jamie is already planning to curl up in it with his sketchbook when Mako grabs him by the shirt and drags him into a deep kiss. It pulls a giggle from Jamie’s chest and makes his stomach flutter.

“Christ,” Jamie gasps when Mako pulls back.  He feels like everything is spinning around him, and eagerly drops his bag so that he can wrap his arms around Mako.  

When Mako kisses him again, his back hits the wall, and he feels like his everything is on fire.

After a while, Jamie gently pushes back on Mako’s chest so that he can breathe and Mako works his way down Jamie’s jaw to his neck, allowing him a breather that feels more like he’s hyperventilating.  This was everything he’s ever wanted.

After a few bite marks, Mako drags Jamie back in for another kiss and Jamie slips his arms up from Mako’s shoulders to his neck, allowing himself to be dragged closer, away from the wall.  “Just let me chuck my prosthetics,” he gasps, when Mako slides his hands down the back of Jamie’s sagging pants.

“Sure,” Mako grunts breathlessly.

Jamie reluctantly breaks away to sit on the nook to unbuckle his arm, leg and belt.

Mako doesn’t seem to be bothered by any of it.  When Jamie glances up, he’s watching him patiently, his eyes raking over Jamie like he’s trying to figure out the best use for him. Jamie stands again, balancing easily and he beckons Mako closer. “Hopping ‘round isn’t the hottest move,” he says.

Mako seems to realize that his pants are still closed as Jamie’s slipped down as soon as he was standing.  He undoes his button and fly as he moves forward, and Jamie wraps his arms around him again, pressing long, eager kisses to his lips and chin.

He shoves at Mako’s pants with his stump, and then his heel as well when Mako drags his leg up around his hip.  They don’t take a lot of effort to fall, and once they do, Mako steps out of them and backs them toward his bed.

“Mind doing all the work again?” Mako asks, once he’s seated and Jamie’s trying to melt into him.

“Love to,” Jamie says between pants.  “Long as I’m the one getting fucked this time.  Where’s your lube?”

Mako gestures and then lays back on his bed while Jamie crawls over to the small plastic set of drawers filled with after-workout protein mixes and phone chargers.  He finds the bottle and a very large condom in the drawer.  He rolls so that he can work his underwear off one handed, and Mako lends him a hand when his excitement makes things frustratingly difficult.

“Thanks, mate,” Jamie says once he’s bare aside from his shirt.  He rolls back over onto his stomach and squeezes lube onto his fingers, the tube in his teeth.

Mako watches with rapt attention as Jamie starts fingering himself.  He’s stroking himself through his underwear at first, then as Jamie builds quickly to adding fingers, he shucks his shirt and hoodie and then his underwear. Jamie eyes Mako’s cock, trying to gauge how many fingers it would take to really be ready for it.  

It was honestly more than he had available.

“Think I’m good,” Jamie says when his hand starts to cramp.  He was already leaking onto the sheets just from fingering himself and watching Mako recline on the bed and jerk his cock.

“You sure?” Mako asks, letting his prick drop to his thigh with a heavy slap and reaching over to test Jamie’s hole.

He almost comes just from the noise and thick finger alone.

“N-not really,” he admits.  “Give me a few of yours, yeah?  Thick bastards that they are.”

Mako snorts out a laugh and shifts closer.  He coats his fingers liberally, then works one in where three of Jamie’s fingers had worked him as much as they could.  When he adds a second finger, Jamie groans and grasps the sheets beneath him.  He has to think about something else, has to hold on or he’s not even going to make it onto Mako’s dick. 

He thinks about the car wreck;  thinks about the antiseptic smell of the hospital, the haze of drugs, the frustration of relearning to draw with his left hand.

His body thrusts back on Mako’s two fingers, and he groans loudly, absolutely ignoring any courtesy for the rest of the house.  They’re probably right above the living area. Mako doesn’t say anything, just twists and thrusts his fingers in again, harder, until they’re in up to the knuckle.

Jamie pants and claws at the bed.  For a second, he can feel the ghost of his right hand doing the same, and that kills his cock almost as easily as remembering the red and blue lights flashing above a shattered windshield.

“I’m… I’m good,” Jamie says, his words slow and measured.  He’s surprised he hasn’t been babbling the whole time.  This is all he’s ever wanted, ever since he saw Mako’s face in the college paper halfway through his first semester.

Mako twists his fingers again before pulling them out and Jamie smacks him with his leg stump.  The asshole laughs as he climbs back up on the bed and then flops on his back, causing the frame and mattress to groan, but they hold faithfully.  He takes his time opening the condom packet and rolling it carefully down his cock.  Once he’s covered, Mako grabs the lubricant and squeezes nearly half the bottle into his hand before spreading it liberally all along his prick.  His eyes are dark and hungry as he watches Jamie quake and shiver on his elbows and knee.

Jamie takes several deep breaths to get his trembling limbs back under control, then hobbles across the short space of separation between them and tosses his left leg over Mako’s.

Mako holds his cock steady for Jamie and his other hand cups his hip.

“You need help?” He asks, nodding at Jamie’s half-limp prick.

“Fuck no,” Jamie laughs and leans forward to brace himself on Mako’s stomach. His left hand guides his hole to Mako’s cock head.  “Want me to come before you’re even in me?”

Mako snorts and gives Jamie’s ass a squeeze once his cock is pressing in.  “Maybe,” he admits, his eyes darting up and down Jamie as he slowly, slowly, begins bobbing up and down, working the thick head of Mako’s cock inside him carefully.

“Fuck…” Jamie hisses, trying to keep it down a little more now that it was mostly a burning press and not deep, aching pleasure. Mako just lays there and watches him, his hands guiding him, but not moving him at all.

“Shit, do you even know what you do to me?” Jamie asks, rolling his hips onto Mako’s cock.  The broad mushroom of his head pops past the tight ring of Jamie’s ass, and they both make a needy noise together, Jamie a high whine and Mako a low rumble.

“Figuring it out,” Mako says, a little breathless.

Jamie pants as he works himself down Mako’s cock.  Centimeter by centimeter, he sinks lower and lower, slow and steady. Mako’s hand on Jamie’s hip squeezes hard as he fucks himself  The thick muscles of Mako’s forearm flex and make Jamie wish he had more hands.  He wants to be able to brace himself against Mako and he wants to touch him at the same time.

Now that he’s well seated, he grips Mako’s wrist.   

“Shit,” Jamie groans as he jolts down too hard.  Mako’s hips stay still, but his stomach and chest are flushed dark and his neck is tense, the tendons and veins standing out as Jamie gathers his wits again and begins to fuck down again.

By the time Jamie’s nearly fully seated, he’s panting hard, and his cock is full and drooling slowly onto Mako’s stomach.  His body feels so hot he’s worried he might spontaneously combust.

“You’re fucking determined, I’ll give you that,” Mako says after a long, hard space of silence besides Jamie’s groans.

“I’m going to take it,” Jamie replies, rolling down again and swallowing hard as a pulse of pleasure wracks through him.  “Christ.  Jesus fucking Christ.  How much more is there?” He asks, still holding onto Mako’s forearm, his knuckles white and his fingers likely to bruise.

Mako laughs.  It rattles through him, rocking Jamie down another few centimeters and making him moan loudly again.  He feels desperate tears prick the backs of his eyes. Mako’s hand leaves Jamie’s hip.  He scrapes his nails teasingly across Jamie’s thin ass cheek and feels the tender ring stretched around his cock.

Jamie trembles and bites his lip against the urge to scream with his entire being.  He knows he can take him.  He knows he can make it.

Mako hums and brings his first finger’s knuckle up for Jamie to see.  “About this much more.”

“Fuck,” Jamie sighs, letting out the breath he had been holding.  “Fuck, that’s so much.  Holy shit.”

Mako laughs again and returns his hands to Jamie’s trembling hips when he slips further onto him.  “Don’t have to take it all.  We’ve got plenty of time to work you up to it.”

Jamie gives a strangled groan and his trembling legs raise him up. Mako hisses at the cool air where there was only Jamie’s hot, tight ass before.  Then, Jamie drops back down on Mako’s cock, forcing his breath out in a loud, deep moan.

“Shit…” Mako’s nails scrape at Jamie’s buttocks and his thumbs stroke sharp hip bones beneath thin skin.Jamie grins and does it again, enjoying the look on Mako’s face: he’s flushed all the way to his hairline.  His silver hair is coming out of the messy bun it had been pulled into for wrestling practice, and his eyes are unwaveringly locked on Jamie’s neck and face.

It’s hard, and it takes so long compared to their first fuck, but soon Jamie is bouncing on Mako’s cock, that deep, powerful ache of pleasure returning even keener than before.  Jamie braces his right arm on Mako’s stomach to help him stay upright and moving while he touches himself with his hand.  Jamie groans and closes his eyes as pleasure spikes through him.

Mako’s hands suddenly start helping him along, moving him into deeper thrusts.  He hadn’t even realized he had barely been moving.  With Mako’s help, he feels the difference and gives himself over to Mako’s hands.  Intense, slow thrusts draw out how long it takes Jamie to come.  He eventually has to start moving himself again, bouncing desperately as he jerks his cock.  Soon, he comes across Mako’s stomach.

“Fuck… fuck, that’s _good_ ,” Jamie says, his legs trembling as Mako’s hands keep him moving, back to the slow, deep pace he had before.  Jamie braces his arms on Mako’s stomach and adjusts the angle to something more manageable for his exhausted legs.  

Mako grunts and keeps moving Jamie, beginning to buck up into Jamie’s ass as he gets closer himself.  Somewhere along the way, Jamie had become fully seated on Mako’s cock, and the damp slap of flesh is punctuated by a high giggle with each thrust.

They keep going until Jamie can’t feel his legs.  After a while, the only thing moving him is Mako’s hands on his hips and he wonders if he’s fucked up “doing all the work,” as Mako had put it.  If he has, Mako doesn’t seem to mind.

There’s a sudden change, just as Jamie starts feeling too used.  Mako’s hips slowly begin to snap up faster and harder until he grips Jamie’s sides hard one last time. He drags him down hard with a deep, resounding moan.

Jamie hears whoops from another room and his face floods with heat as he stretches out across Mako’s stomach.

“They’re probably watching tv,” Mako says, rubbing Jamie’s slick back with a rumbling chuckle.

“Sure,” Jamie says, his cheeks still burning.  

They lie there until Jamie’s breathing calms. Mako gently pulls Jamie off of his cock, strips the condom off and lets it drop to the floor. Jamie shifts up to rest his head against Mako’s shoulder and curls his body around Mako’s bulk. A big arm wraps around Jamie and he drifts off into a nap.

The sun has set and dusk has faded by the time Jamie’s eyes open again.

Everything smells like Mako, and Jamie stretches and snuggles into the blanket tossed over him, enjoying it while he can. He hears a noise to his left and peeks up to see Mako sitting at a writing desk, seemingly working on homework.  His eyes are on Jamie, though, and he looks hungry.

“Ready for another go?” Jamie asks, pushing the blanket lower to show off more of his wiry muscles.

“I don’t think you could take it,” Mako points out, but he’s marking his place in his book with a pencil.

Jamie grins, watching Mako stretch a little when he stands, then move toward the bed.  “Like to test it out anyway,” Jamie says, making room for Mako and giggling when he crawls on top of him and starts kissing and grinding. Jamie feels his ass throb when he bucks back against Mako, but it’s pleasant, and he lets out a moan into Mako’s mouth.

Somewhere in the house, Reinhardt laughs.  Jamie pulls away to listen for what might be happening downstairs, but Mako just starts kissing his neck and chest instead, still grinding his cock against Jamie’s thigh.

“Wanna fuck me again?” Jamie offers, trying to turn over, but Mako holds him down firmly with his hand on his chest.

“Not enough lube,” he says when Jamie pouts.  He slips his hand behind Jamie anyway, teasing his hole. Jamie lets out a soft groan and presses his cock against Mako’s.  “Fucked you real loose,” Mako says, smirking and continuing to rut against Jamie.  “Shame.”

Jamie whines and claws at Mako’s shoulder.  He’s still sensitive from before, but he wouldn’t want to stop for the world.  Mako is warm and wonderful against him, just like Jamie always knew he would be.  He shifts and tries to buck up against Mako, but he’s held down and subjected to more of the slow, ponderous pace that Mako seems fond of.

Here he is. Crushed into a bed that’s creaking slowly beneath them, finally where he’s always felt he belongs.  Jamie basks in it now that he’s not so hellbent on getting fucked.  

Between the sedate rhythm of the bed frame and how warm and slick they both are, Jamie wishes he could stay here forever.

There’s need blooming in his gut, though, and he digs his nails into Mako’s shoulder again.  Jamie’s hips thrust up against Mako’s needily as pleasure floods him, and a strangled cry crackle out of his throat.

Mako keeps moving until he comes too, leaving them both sticky and panting.

Jamie leans up to kiss Mako, toying with the long locks of hair escaping his tie. 

“Know you’re not up for dating,” he says when Mako pulls back to catch his breath and rest his chin on Jamie’s chest, “but I could get used to this.”

Mako chuckles and rakes his fingers along the dips of Jamie’s ribs. “We can hook up sometimes.”

Jamie grins at the ceiling and keeps playing with Mako’s hair.  “Yeah?  Sounds fucking great.  I’ll be here, any fucking time.  Let me give you my number right fucking now,” Jamie says, though he doesn’t move.

Mako snorts and stays put, keeping Jamie pinned to the bed.  “Later.”


End file.
